by Mark Timlin
We ate at the Pizza Express just a few hundred yards down the road. It was cheap and cheerful. Although I’d told Sheila I was in semi-retirement it didn’t mean I was on a pension. Far from it. She had a Four Seasons, I had an American. We drank a carafe of house red with the meal followed by coffees and brandies. I enjoyed the food and her company. Over the second brandy she said, ‘Pretty good.’
‘You’ll always get a warm welcome at Pizza Express.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Goes with the territory.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
‘I’ve enjoyed myself today, Nick.’
‘Me too.’
‘Why haven’t we ever done this before? You just living around the corner and all?’
‘I don’t know. It could have something to do with Johnny.’
‘Oh yes, Johnny. It all comes back down to him doesn’t it.’
‘He was your boyfriend.’
‘What a quaint, old-fashioned term.’
‘I’m just a quaint, old-fashioned kind of guy.’
‘Are you?’
‘I like to think so.’
‘And I got stuck with a bastard.’
Some women seem to prefer them, I thought, but decided it was better to keep the thought to myself. ‘But you’re rid of him now.’
‘It took a long time.’
‘But better late than never.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, and we clinked glasses. ‘I’ve got a bottle of wine at home,’ she said when she’d emptied her glass. ‘Fancy a drop?’
‘I thought you had an appointment with your underwear and the washing machine.’
‘That was just in case you were boring.’
‘I’m never boring.’
‘Everybody’s boring sometimes,’ she replied. ‘But so far you’ve been OK.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I said.
‘So do you want to come back for a drink or not?’
I was feeling good so I said, ‘Sure. The offie’s still open, I’ll get a bottle too.’
‘Sounds like we’re in for a long afternoon,’ she remarked. ‘And we only came out for milk.’
‘If you don’t want to…’ I didn’t finish the sentence.
She smiled, and not for the first time I clocked that she had a lovely mouth. And green eyes. I’m a sucker for green eyes. ‘Course I do,’ she said. ‘Just don’t expect any extras to be on the menu.’
‘I never do,’ I said. And that was the truth.
‘Come on then,’ she said, and I paid the bill and we left. On the way back we stopped off at the off licence for a bottle of decent red for me and cigarettes for her.
We strolled up the road towards her house, walking apart, and although I wanted to take her arm or hold her hand I didn’t.
She let us in to her house and we went up to her flat, which was a top half conversion and where I’d never been before. As we went through her flat door I caught the whiff of fresh paint.
‘I just decorated,’ she said. ‘Get rid of the remains of Johnny.’
‘Sounds fair,’ I said. ‘Got a bottle opener?’
‘In the top drawer on the left in the kitchen. Glasses are up top. Second cupboard in.’
Whilst I got the necessary she turned on the stereo. Sticky moment. What if she was a Dire Straits fan?
But she wasn’t. Or at least she didn’t spoil the moment by choosing one of their albums. Instead she put on a Tamla Motown compilation of sixties hits and turned the volume down, which suited me just fine.
I poured out the wine to the accompaniment of Martha and the Vandellas and sat on the sofa in the living room where she was perched on the matching armchair. The room faced west into the afternoon sun which shone through the open curtains and made the atmosphere cosy and pleasant. We clinked glasses and drank, and she said, ‘I think I’m getting a bit pissed.’
‘It’s Sunday,’ I said. ‘What else are Sundays for?’
‘You and your bloody Sundays,’ she said. ‘Can’t you talk about anything else?’
‘Getting boring am I?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Sorry, that was mean. And you’re right. I’m just not used to having fun.’
‘You should get used to it,’ I said. ‘It’s good.’
‘It’s good with you,’ she said, and the words hung heavy in the warm air in the room.
‘And you too,’ I said into the silence that followed.
‘You don’t know me.’
‘I know you well enough.’
‘Not true,’ she said.
‘If you say so,’ and I filled her glass again and we toasted each other once more, and I realised she wasn’t the only one getting a bit merry and bright that afternoon.
Around six we’d finished both bottles of wine and were making a big dent in a bottle of Greek brandy that she’d found in the sideboard and told me was a souvenir of the last holiday she’d taken with Johnny. Even with the connotations it tasted just terrific and the music had gone from Motown to Blue Note via some Bluegrass collection. ‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘but I have to go to the loo again.’ And she left me still sitting on the sofa and staggered out of the room banging her shoulder on the door post as she went.
There was an old stuffed teddy bear with a wonky eye on the table and I reached over and picked it up. ‘Well Teddy, what do you reckon?’ I said. ‘What kind of situation have we found ourselves in here?’ But not a word did he say in reply. After a few minutes with no sign of her I started to worry. I was totally drunk by then and I thought she might be ill. ‘Come on Teddy,’ I said. ‘Let’s go look.’
I went out to the bathroom and knocked on the door. There was no reply. Shit, I thought. What now? I rapped harder, and when I was still met by silence I tried the door. It was open. Sheila was sitting on the toilet with her jeans and knickers pulled down over her thighs. Two questions were immediately answered. She was wearing black underwear and her true hair colour was British mouse. She looked up at me as I stood in the doorway clutching Teddy in my hand. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘I was getting worried. Sorry. I didn’t mean to burst in. I knocked.’ It sounded pretty lame and I felt pretty stupid.
‘Just had to pee. Have I been long?’
‘Yeah. I thought you might be being sick.’
She giggled and shook her head. ‘No. Just thinking.’
‘Fine,’ I said.
‘What are you doing with Teddy?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. I just thought…’ I stopped.
‘What?’
‘That you wouldn’t be scared of me coming in if I was carrying a furry animal.’
She laughed out loud at that. ‘Christ, Nick,’ she said. ‘There’s some furry animals you could have in your hand that would scare me, but you’re right. Teddy doesn’t. I’ve got to lie down. I’m out of it. Help me up.’
I dropped Teddy into the dry bath next to where she was sitting and she caught my hand and I pulled her upright. She was unsteady on those damned heels and fell against me and I held her as she pulled up her pants and jeans. She didn’t seem in the least concerned that I’d caught her on the toilet, so that was alright. ‘Bedroom’s past the living room,’ she said and leant on me as I half walked half carried her there. ‘Damn. But I haven’t been this pissed in ages,’ she said as she dropped onto the bed.
‘You going to be alright?’ I said.
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll get off then.’
‘No,’ she almost wailed and held out her hand. ‘Stay.’
I didn’t know what to do. ‘You’re drunk,’ I said. ‘You need to sleep.’
‘I’ll sleep better with you here.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
There was no reas
on. ‘You’ll regret it in the morning,’ I said weakly. But I wanted to stay. I hadn’t slept with a woman for months, and the more of Sheila I saw the more I wanted her. Or at least not to leave her. Just stay close and hold her.
‘Please don’t go,’ she said. ‘I get lonely.’
Christ, Sheila, don’t we all, I thought, as she awkwardly pulled off her boots and socks, jeans and sweater to reveal a black bra that matched her knickers. ‘Just promise me one thing,’ I said as I watched her.
‘What?’
‘Promise you won’t go weird on me later.’
‘I promise,’ she said, but I didn’t really believe her.
I stripped down to my T-shirt and shorts and she grinned wickedly. ‘So that’s what you wear,’ she said.
‘That’s it,’ I agreed and we both climbed under the duvet and I held her in the silence that reigned in the flat after the CD had finished.
We kissed then, in the darkness of the room with the curtains drawn, and our tongues met almost shyly. We held each other very close like a pair of orphans who’d found a family to belong to.
We were both too drunk to get into any grand productions then, but there’s an awful lot of fun to be had just touching and stroking and kissing, even though I’m sure we both passed out at least once. But it wasn’t a staying awake contest, or even a sex contest, just two sparks of humanity who by luck had bumped into each other at the right time and place. I helped her out of her bra and her breasts were full and round and soft with nipples the colour and length of pencil erasers and I kissed them gently. Her skin was like silky velvet, soft and warm, and I drank in the smell of her as eagerly as I’d drunk the wine earlier. ‘You’re lovely,’ I whispered.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t say that,’ she said. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t relate to compliments. I’m not used to them. Johnny knocked that bit out of me.’
‘With his fists?’
‘And his tongue. He was very cruel.’
‘He didn’t deserve you.’
‘Oh I think he did. He deserved me just fine. We were made for each other.’
‘No.’
‘Nick.’
‘What?’
‘Shut up and kiss me some more.’ And I imagine that’s when I started to fall in love with her.
At around nine I got up and found a bottle of Evian water in the fridge, turned off the stereo that was humming quietly to itself in the corner and went back to bed with cigarettes and the ashtray. ‘My mouth tastes like shit,’ said Sheila as we shared a cigarette and the bottle and after I’d stubbed it out we both fell asleep.
I woke up at four in the morning and pushed my fingers into her pants to wake her, and we had another go. But we were still half pissed although I like to think I made her come before falling asleep again. But that might just be a bloke thing.
I woke again at six and she was sitting up in bed looking at me. I felt that something had changed
‘Surprise,’ I said to break the silence.
‘You’re here.’
‘Looks like it. Is something wrong?’
She shook her head. ‘Did we?’
‘You’ve still got your knickers on,’ I said. ‘And they’ve stayed on.’
‘Why not?’
‘We were both too drunk,’ I said. ‘I thought maybe it wasn’t the right time. I thought it would be taking advantage.’
‘Did I want to?’
What a question. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you want to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think I’d’ve let you?’
I was beginning to get just a little peeved. Why do women have to be like that? ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Nothing much happened.’
She relaxed a little. ‘You’re alright, Nick,’ she said. ‘It’s me that’s the arsehole as usual.’
‘I don’t think so, Sheila,’ I told her. ‘Anyway, it’s purely academic. Stop beating yourself up about it.’ I looked at my watch. That was purely academic too. It was time to leave, and if I had any sense never return. But when did I ever have any sense? ‘I should go,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Perhaps you should.’
‘Can I see you again?’
‘You’ve seen about all there is to see already.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yeah. I know what you mean. Do you want to?’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I said you’d go weird.’
‘Did you? What, weirder than I am already?’ This time she smiled.
I nodded as I got out of bed, found my jeans, sweatshirt, socks and shoes and got dressed. She had lain back in bed and watched my every move. When I was ready I stood awkwardly by the bedside and said, ‘Can I call you?’
She nodded. ‘Number’s on the phone,’ she said.
‘I’ll be off then.’
Her expression softened and she reached out for me. ‘Come here,’ she said.
I sat on the edge of the bed and we kissed gently, and I felt the tip of her tongue again. ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ she whispered as I put my face into her hair.
‘I won’t,’ I replied and left, collecting her number and my milk on the way. I never did get to read that Sunday’s paper.
3
I went home, finally made that cup of tea and spent the rest of the day nursing my hangover and thinking about Sheila and what had and hadn’t happened. Mostly the latter. The flat seemed even emptier than ever if that were possible.
I didn’t know whether to get in touch again or not. I was in a quandary. I kept saying to myself ‘Forget it’, followed ten minutes later by ‘Why not?’ That went on for bloody hours.
But I wanted to and eventually ‘Why not?’ won the day as I knew it would and I called her that evening when I figured she’d be home from work. She picked up after the second ring. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘It’s me, Nick.’ I felt like some sort of dumb teenager asking a girl out on his first date. That’s the sort of effect she had on me.
‘Hello, Nick,’ she said, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm in her voice. ‘How are you?’
I hate that. The disinterest when you phone up a woman to ask her out. I knew it had been a mistake to call but I persevered. Lack of sense, see. ‘Still hungover a bit,’ I replied.
‘Me too. Work was murder. We drank a little yesterday.’
‘We sure did.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘I wondered if I could see you,’ I said.
‘Not tonight, I’m tired.’
‘I didn’t mean tonight. Soon.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘Nothing. I’m… I’m embarrassed if you want to know. It all came back to me. I forced you to stay.’
‘Hardly. I’m a big boy now. If I’d wanted to go I would’ve gone.’
‘No. I made a big deal out of it. I’m sorry.’
‘Look, Sheila. I wanted to stay. I really did. And I’m glad. Don’t be sorry, please.’
‘Good. It’s just that I’m a bit freaked out around men these days. Johnny did that. You know.’
‘I know,’ I replied. ‘You were far too good for him.’
‘Don’t say that, it’s not true.’
‘I think it is.’
‘You’re a nice bloke, Nick. Where were you seven years ago when I was young and stupid and I believed every word that Johnny said?’
‘I was around.’
‘But not around me.’
There was no answer to that. ‘So can I see you?’ I asked again. I was starting to sweat.
‘If you’re sure.’
‘Sure I’m sure.’
<
br /> ‘Then on your own head be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Cross my heart.’ Maybe I should’ve listened.
‘When then?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Sure. What do you want to do?’
‘Have a drink. A meal. Talk.’
‘Talk huh? That sounds positively dangerous.’
‘We could always communicate by sign language.’
‘Or smoke signals.’
‘Sounds reasonable.’
‘You’re quite mad.’
‘But never boring.’
‘Don’t make me laugh, Nick, I think I’ll throw up.’
‘Please don’t. I’m still not feeling at my best, remember.’
‘But you didn’t have to sit in a stuffy office all day.’
‘True.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘Sat at home.’ I was going to add ‘and thought about you’, but didn’t think it was appropriate.
‘The upside of self-employment.’
‘And earned nothing.’
‘The downside of self-employment.’
We were getting on better than I thought we would. ‘So tomorrow’s OK?’ I asked.
‘Sounds fine to me. I get home from work about six. Call for me at seven?’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
There was a pause and I heard her breathe and I imagined her breath on my neck. ‘Me too,’ she said finally. ‘Yeah. Me too.’
4
When I went to collect her the next night I was all booted and suited in a dark blue three-button Hugo Boss with a white, tab collared shirt and skinny knitted tie. Very mod, I thought as I admired myself in the mirror before I left. And I was shaved and had washed my hair this time. On the way I wondered if I was a bit overdressed, but when she answered the door she’d made some effort too, wearing the same furry jacket, but this time over a little black dress and black nylons. ‘You look nice,’ I said.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘You know most women enjoy compliments.’
‘I’m not most women,’ she replied.
‘You can say that again.’
She smiled and I went in close and kissed her on the cheek, inhaling her perfume. ‘And you smell nice too,’ I said.
